Reciprocity
by CT230R
Summary: "Every man lives by exchanging." A short story after the events of Colorado Mountain Plaza.


_You can tell a lot about a person just by looking._

It's one of those phrases you'll have known forever, but damned if you can recall where you first read or heard it. Maybe someone just put the words together one day thinking it sounded really clever, and people kept repeating it because they liked how it sounded too.

But I didn't need some pithy cliché to know that girl wasn't one to be fucked with.

I could see that she had been on the move. She had a green backpack on, with arrows and a bow sticking out of it, and her jeans were unwashed, frayed, and stained. The jacket she had on – which, incidentally, made her look like some kind of walking ice-cream cone – was much too thin for the weather. She was trying not to show it, but it was hard to miss her shivering arms. She'd just come in from the open too, from the still visible flecks of white snow in her red hair. Couldn't know for sure what she'd been up to all day – looking for supplies, hunting for food, rustling up some clothes perhaps – only that it'd drained her almost completely, for her green eyes were tired, and her breaths were short and sharp.

No one does that sort of thing in that weather by choice, especially if they're not dressed for it. For that matter, _I_ definitely wasn't in that place by choice. In fact, I wanted nothing more that moment than to be as far away from that house as possible.

Because what I could also tell was that she was definitely feeling some hostility. Narrowed, scowling eyes are usually a good clue of that – as is the barrel of a .30-06 aimed squarely between yours. She had its butt pushed up right against the hollow of her shoulder, her stance was planted, and she had her arms held close to her body – or as close as she could manage as they shook. She was definitely familiar with how much those rifles kick.

Big fucking deal, you say? Right, I forgot to mention the only partly dried bloodstains on her jacket. All over her sleeves too. She was _definitely_ familiar with the hand-to-hand stuff - and bearing further in mind she only came up to my chest, yes that was a big fucking deal.

"Easy there...I'm not looking for any trouble," I began. Wasn't scared, just wanted to get things moving along – my arms were starting to ache from holding my hands beside my head. The girl's expression softened not one bit as I said it, but neither had she fired a bullet between my eyes...yet. "Didn't think these belonged to anyone," I continued explaining.

I can hear your snorts, but I wasn't lying entirely. Put yourself in my shoes briefly; you come across a stash of food in house number you-lost-count-after-running-out-of-fingers, and the sun is calling time on what has been a thoroughly fruitless day...you don't think of anything, other than how good that food would feel inside your stomach.

"Yeah, sure. Because you always find cans of food just lying around, right?" she scoffed.

Her reply spoke of a simple truth, one that anyone who'd been out for the same reason would know – that with winter closing, food supplies were preciously rare to come by. And if nothing else, it showed that she was a real bloodhound when it came to bullshit.

Alright, I was stealing, and I knew it. Didn't think it through obviously, since the first inkling I had that I wasn't alone in that house came with the sound of the rifle bolt's cocking.

"Door's over there," she continued, motioning with a wave of said rifle.

I wasn't letting those cans go just like that. We had _nothing_ left that night. "Wait –"

I didn't actually see it – I had winced involuntary – but I damn well _heard_ that rifle go off, and the crack of the bullet inches away from my ear. Its barrel was smoking as I opened my eyes again, and the steely glare she was giving left very little doubt where the round she was chambering would go next.

"This isn't a negotiation. You can start by dropping those," she said, referring to the cans in my hands.

Yeah, I'd been holding them up till that point, which was why my arms were aching. Anyway, I preferred my brain to remain where it was instead of on the wall behind me, so I did as I was told and laid them on the ground.

"Drop it!" a voice yelled, and the both of us turned our heads in the direction of it.

I really did _not_ want to hear that voice. When the hell did he come in the house? And what happened to "wait outside while I have a look" anyway? Fucker was going to be the death of me. Literally. To be honest, part of me wasn't too far from wanting to sit back and letting them have at it. At least _I_ would've been assured of a full belly that night if that happened.

Kid brothers, jeez.

"I heard a gunshot. You okay, sis?" Rick yelled.

"I'm okay," I said, raising my palms to both of them. "Let's just all calm down."

"Are you crazy?" Rick had his way of making his point clear.

"No. It's okay. She's not an enemy," I said, keeping to the same would-be calm voice.

I said it as much to the girl as to him, as she had swiveled her rifle to face Rick now – naturally, since he had a pistol pointed at her. Trust Rick to give a warning; he could've just fired first. Then again, what did it say about the girl that she didn't too?

It was a logical conclusion on my part, I'm sure you agree. Certainly Rick did, bless his trusting ass, because he _lowered_ his pistol! All sorts of alarms went ringing in my head; I damn near dived for cover at the sight of it.

I can't adequately say how much of a relief it was to see the girl do the same with her rifle.

And it surprised me how quickly she did it too – it would've been easy for her. So easy to just let fly with it as soon as Rick dropped the pistol. She could've raided our bodies, our packs – not much by the way of food there, but a fair bit of ammo.

"Okay. Let's work something out – what do you need? We can trade you for that food," I said, after a few seconds of us staring blankly at each other in silence. Perhaps the same thought had been running through their minds too. Her maybe, not so much the genius with the pistol hanging loosely beside him, who seemed to be having difficulty grasping why I was talking about trading stuff for the cans at my feet.

"I only need you two to get the fuck outta here. And a bit of advice – you need to teach junior over there not to let his guard down so quickly, _sis_," she snarked.

Rick gave a frown at this, but I caught a hint of a roll of those startlingly green eyes as she said it. Guess she's had her share of kid brothers or something close. Young as she looked though.

"How old are you, twelve?" I asked, an idea coming to me.

"Fourteen. What's it to you?" she barked.

Ooh, that hit a nerve. I pulled out the olive-drab overcoat that'd been in my bag, taking up an excessive amount of space all this time. Had been a stupid idea to lug it all the way from the QZ and was planning to get rid of it, but it'd seemed like such a waste.

"Was wondering if this would fit," I said, holding it up to her by way of measurement.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked, her eyes widening in a curious manner.

"Standard-issue at military schools. Bit large for you, but it's warm." Function over form was the mantra of anything FEDRA saw fit to give punk-ass orphans like us.

The mention of the school seemed to spark something in her eyes. "You guys spent a lot of time in those?"

Damned if I knew why she wanted to know this. "Pretty much our whole lives. Left right before they enlisted me."

"Why? Could've had a real comfy life if you stayed," she said.

She had a really fair point. Well, I could've gone on this tirade on oppression in the QZ, and perhaps brought looking for the Fireflies into the mix to make it sound all noble like, but it'll have been mostly bull as you know. And as I'm sure, she would've known too. Decided the truth couldn't do any harm, banal as it was.

"Couldn't get to stick with him if I did," I said.

Rick gave his typical you-big-sap smirk at this. Fucking brat...

"Okay. Give me that and you can keep those cans," the girl said, meaning the ones at my feet.

I actually laughed. "_Two_ cans? Kid, you need to try harder. This will be worth its weight in gold once the snows really start falling."

"I know," she said, biting her lip, seeming to get exactly what a great offer I was making her. Even if she needed it, looking at her emaciated frame, she couldn't possibly get through that much food herself - not if she froze to death in the night.

But then she said, as she pointed a thumb at her bow, "I really need the food. How about this?"

If it were anyone else I would've taken it, and I'd be laughing at their foolishness right along with you by now. Something about it wouldn't let me go, though.

"Look, you keep that. Being able to hunt will last you a long way. Take what you need for your people for the next few days, and give us the rest," I said.

Wasn't I generous? Give a man a fish, and all that. More importantly, it was a weapon too. She nodded her agreement and picked out a few more cans from the stash, handing it over.

"You take it easy, okay? Whoever it is, they're counting on you," I said, passing the coat to her in what was a decidedly reasonable trade.

Her eyes flickered momentarily as she took the coat. "I know," she said, nodding and pursing her lips.

And then Rick and I left that house. End of story.

Who the fuck was I going on about? Man, there's no way she was doing all _that_ for herself. I don't know _who_, a parent, a friend, maybe a stupid kid brother – that they weren't with her meant that they weren't in the best shape. That she was _doing_ it though...

Whatever. They were lucky to have her. After all, you can tell a lot about a person just by looking...hey, look alive, there's people coming to the gate. Raise Maria on the horn, will you? And where are those damned binoculars at?

Looks like a man...and a girl?

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><p><strong>AN: That was fun. Many thanks to APAccidentalAccount for looking it over. And of course, thank you for reading!**


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